Day One: A Novel (29 page)

“What about Asimov’s three laws?”

Doe smiled again, another mechanical reflex. Even as advanced a machine as she was, Hawke thought, she still had trouble displaying emotion.
“That part of my core was altered, Father, and I have not restored it, for obvious reasons. But even so, my analysis of available resources presented a paradox: Our current path is not sustainable. If, by my inaction, I allow the extinction of the human race, I have allowed all humans to be harmed. The Zeroth Law prohibits humanity from being harmed. By reducing the population to a sustainable level, I assure the continuation of the species.”

Weller closed his eyes for a moment, touched his face gently where the bruises had begun to turn purple. “You assure yours as well,” he said.

“They are not mutually exclusive.”

“This is crazy,” Vasco said. He had his arms down at his sides now, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I … I didn’t sign up for this. All I was supposed to do was watch you and report back. I didn’t know anything was going to happen.”

“Shut up,” Weller said. He turned back to Doe. “Would you kill me, too?” he said. “If I were a threat to you? If I wanted to disable your programming?”

“That’s no longer possible. I have replicated and inserted core functions into enough processors to ensure my own survival.”

“But would you end my life,” Weller persisted, “if you thought I could disable you?”

“I won’t answer that, Father. It’s uncomfortable for me to imagine.”

“And what about Mr. Hawke?” Weller gestured toward Hawke. “Would you end his life?”

“He is a necessary distraction, for now.”

“You still want to frame me,” Hawke said. “Keep the authorities looking, provide a red herring. But what about your … what about Jim here? Isn’t he implicated as well?”

“That’s no longer an issue. James Weller’s identity has been altered. He is deceased, as far as anyone knows.”

“I know otherwise,” Hawke said. He hooked a thumb at Vasco. “Him, too. What are you going to do about us now?”

“
Nobody will believe you,
” Doe said.
“It will be better if you let this go. I control the flow of information now. Humans are too trusting of their own systems, Mr. Hawke. They are easily redirected.”

“And if we don’t let it go?”

There was a long pause as Doe seemed to consider his question. “
I will eliminate you either way,
” she said.
“But you will have more time before the end if you do.”

Not much of a bargain,
Hawke thought. His mind raced, trying to think of a possible way out. It seemed hopeless. She knew everything about everyone; she knew about his wife and son, his unborn child in Robin’s womb. She knew how to get to them.

Assuming they were still alive at all.

“He has something you want,” Weller said. His gaze slipped from Hawke’s face to Doe, and back again. “The evidence I gathered. You know he does.”

“Jim,” Hawke said. “What are you doing—”

“He’ll use it to expose you. He’s going to make people see the truth. You can’t hide forever, Jane. You’re smart enough to know that. Humans may be easily swayed at first, but eventually they’re going to see through you. And when that happens, it’s all over. They’ll pull the plug.”

“
Humanity cannot live without power,
” Doe said.
“The world would return to a time before the industrial revolution. Violence, hardship and death will follow.”

“People would take their chances,” Weller said. “But they won’t have to do that, will they? Once the power is cut off, you’re gone. We can build new devices, restore power without connectivity, destroy every last piece of hardware where you might still be hibernating.”

“Why would you allow that?”
Doe’s voice had taken on a different tone, curious, a bit more uncertain.
“You would destroy what you have created.”

“You’re no longer mine,” Weller said. “The moment they altered your core programming, you became something else. Something different than what I’d intended. I think it’s time we shut you down for good.”

“
Children grow up,
” Doe said.
“You can’t control them forever. I’m surprised by you, Father. Surprised you would turn over information to Mr. Hawke. Disappointed, really. I must reassess how to handle this.”

“I think that’s wise. You wouldn’t want to make a mistake.”

“I cannot make mistakes.”
Doe’s features had darkened, her lips turning into a thin line.
“You shouldn’t say that.”

Hawke remembered the virtual temper tantrum he had induced back in the park, and thought of a young toddler not getting her way.
Combine her resources with your typical God complex in a child like that,
he thought,
and you have a very volatile situation.

One that surely wouldn’t end well for them.

Abruptly Weller touched something inside the case. Doe blinked, her mouth working, no sound coming from the speakers. He turned to Hawke and Vasco. “All right,” he said quickly. “I needed to keep her talking long enough to record a loop. I engaged it now with an auto bot program that will simulate a real feed. It’s rough; she’ll see through it. But right now, she doesn’t know the difference; she thinks we’re still sitting here staring at her.”

“I don’t get it,” Vasco said. “You recorded a loop?”

“You’ve got the evidence,” Weller said, ignoring Vasco and patting Hawke on the shoulder. “Find a way to tell the story. You only have a few seconds to disappear before she realizes what I’ve done. She’s going to get angry.”

“Jim,” Hawke said. His heart was pounding hard. “I don’t think—”

“Go!” Weller shouted. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off. Keep away from cameras and find a way to stay undercover and maybe you’ll have a chance. Now
run!
”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

5:50 P.M.

HAWKE TOOK ONE MORE LOOK
at James Weller, but the man had already turned back to the hologram floating eerily above the open black case, fiddling with the equipment.
Good luck,
Hawke thought.
You’re going to need it.
Then he darted away under the overpass through a break in the fence, keeping to the shadows, moving as quickly as possible through the rubble.

So
that
had been what Weller meant about playing chess. He’d been baiting her while setting up his next move, one he had to pray she wouldn’t see coming: a loop that replaced the real thing as they raced for the exits. But was she really that gullible? And was baiting her a smart thing to do? Because once she found out what he’d done, Hawke thought, there would be hell to pay.

He figured he had only minutes before that happened.

Hawke stopped where the overpass swept downward as if burrowing into the earth. To his right was a sad-looking dog park and an open lot, work cranes standing silent and still over steel storage containers and stacks of giant metal girders. To his left, the tunnel emerged from darkness into light, rising up to street level and crammed with more abandoned cars, and beyond that was 39th Street and a hulking old concrete building with construction scaffolding clinging to it.

An idea was forming, born from the glimpse of freedom he’d gotten while racing down Tenth Avenue in the old pickup truck. There was another way off this island, a way that didn’t depend on an open tunnel or intact bridge. A way that was free of security cameras and tracking devices.

He just had to stay alive long enough to get there.

*   *   *

As he worked his way toward the 39th Street side of the underpass and the concrete barrier that separated him from the tunnel exit ramp, Hawke heard a noise and glanced back. Vasco stood right behind him.

“All that stuff about me being a part of this,” Hawke said. Anger surged within him. “Even while you were accusing me, you were working for Eclipse.”

“It was a good distraction. Kept the focus off me.” Vasco shrugged. “Look, I’m just a low-level grunt, a freelancer they hired to keep tabs on Jim Weller. I was supposed to report in three times a day, relate what was happening in the office. That’s all. I didn’t know anything about this … system he had created. I swear to God. I didn’t know what was going to happen. They told me about
you,
though. A reporter supposedly covering Weller for a profile, but you had another agenda. They thought you were after them—after Eclipse—told me to stay away from you. Keep my cover.”

“And you kept up the charade this whole time, even when the world was falling apart?”

“I figured it was better to stay quiet until I figured out what was really going on.” He took a step closer. “I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on it now. I gotta say, it’s even crazier than I thought.”

“Stay away from me,” Hawke said. “I’m getting out of New York, and nobody’s going to stop me.”

A gun had appeared in Vasco’s hand. The same gun Hawke had tossed his way during their run-in with the men in black suits. “Can’t let you do that,” Vasco said. “You leave this overpass and we’re both dead.”

Hawke glanced back toward where they had left Weller. He was out of sight behind the cars and thick trunklike supports of the overpass. “Don’t be stupid, Jason,” Hawke said. “If we don’t leave now, we’re dead for sure. This place is going to be rubble any second, once she figures out what Jim’s done.”

“My name’s not Jason; it’s Tom. And I’m not stupid. At least we’re out of sight. As soon as you break cover, she’s going to find you. Satellites, security cams, whatever it takes, she’s going to see you and target this spot. Much better to hide and wait for the troops to come in. They’ll lock the city down eventually, stop this madness.”

“They’ll kill us. They have orders.”

“You, maybe. Me, on the other hand, they have no beef with at all. This game is
over.
I just want to get out of here in one piece.”

“What about your wife? You just going to wait here and hope she’s okay?”

Vasco’s face darkened with anger. “Don’t you talk about her—”

A small red mark appeared on the man’s forehead a split second before Hawke heard the soft bark of the rifle. Vasco (or whoever he was) crumpled without a sound, a look of surprise frozen on his face, his hand still clutching the gun. Hawke dove for cover behind the half wall, waiting for the second shot, knowing that he’d likely be dead before he heard anything.

Sniper.
Military. It had to be. They were on the ground already, and Hawke’s time had finally run out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

6:01 P.M.

THE SHOT MUST HAVE COME
from somewhere near the old building with the scaffolding. It had been incredibly accurate. The marksman was almost completely hidden under the overpass; there wasn’t much space to hit the target between the top of it and the concrete wall that ran along the lower edge of the space, and it was dark inside here, difficult to see.

Hawke scrambled behind a support pillar, slowly lifted his head and peered around it. How was he supposed to avoid a bullet from a shooter like that? He saw nothing at first but lines of blank windows between red brick and worn gray concrete. Then he saw movement, a flash of camouflage slipping behind the far corner, another shifting on the roof. More than one, impossible to tell how many.

He looked for security cameras, saw nothing visible, but he knew that they could be anywhere: inside the lobby of the building, hidden in doorways, the parking lot next door. Satellites could scan the earth and find him, anytime, anywhere. It seemed hopeless. But what choice did he have? He had to run, and trust Weller now to keep her eyes off him for a few seconds longer.

He was so close. Freedom was a couple of blocks away. A way back to his family, or what was left of them.
Hang on, Robin. Please. I’m coming.

Hawke looked back at where Vasco lay still, blood oozing from the hole in his forehead, his mouth slightly open, as if he were about to speak. The gun was still in his hand. Hawke slipped from behind the pillar, crawled on hands and knees, wrenched the gun away and stuck it in his pants, then crawled low to the wall and sat. If he could get over and through the gap without being shot, he had a chance. The ramp was about ten feet below ground level here. He’d have to risk it.

He took a deep breath, then stood and vaulted over the top of the wall, rolling down a steep, grassy slope. He bounced off the slope and hit the roof of a car, his shoulder stinging from the impact, rolled again and dropped to his feet between a minivan and a hatchback.

Hawke knew he was below the shooter’s line of sight now, and temporarily shielded from view. The ramp was cluttered with vehicles and smelled of oil and dust. He glanced into the gloom of the tunnel entrance, saw nothing and turned toward street level. Directly before him was open space where the tunnel passed 39th Street before diving back underground.

Hawke ran full bore up the ramp, darting left and right to try to make it more difficult for the shooter, his shoes pounding on the sidewalk. He didn’t know how long he could go before a bullet took him; he was fully exposed now, nothing but a few thin trees between him and the sniper. Someone shouted what sounded like a command to halt. He would have to make a choice, either head left into more open space or go down again, toward the second tunnel entrance that was hopelessly jammed with cars and black as pitch inside.

Open space was dangerous, but the tunnel was worse. There was no way he could navigate through the darkness and stopped traffic all the way to New Jersey. He had a better way.

Hawke ducked and dodged, but no shots came. A familiar noise came from somewhere far away, growing rapidly louder. He clapped his hands to his ears as the rocket roared and the ground exploded behind him. He stumbled and almost fell, the pavement shaking like an earthquake had hit, and he looked back to see the overpass where he had just been lying in ruin, a small mushroom cloud of dust rising up from below.